


Tenerife Sea

by edenhazard



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, iker loves sergio dont try to convince me otherwise, tenerife sea by ed sheeran is literally MADE for them dont @ me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 15:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15439692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenhazard/pseuds/edenhazard
Summary: "should this be the last thing i see, i want you to know it's enough for me. 'cause all that you are is all that i'll ever need." // Sese and Iker spend the night at the beach.





	Tenerife Sea

That night was beautiful. It was everything you’d imagine; the moonlight, shining on the both of them, reflecting off his eyes; its tranquility, because it was probably 3 A.M. in the morning and no one was awake except for them; the ocean tides, washing off all impurities from the land, tickling their sandy feet.

They were possibly hundreds of miles away from Madrid. Sergio was getting mindlessly upset about a horrible game, which they lost, against some no-name, bottom-of-the-tier club. Although all of his teammates tried to convince the defender that it was not his fault, it just wasn’t Real Madrid’s day, he still wouldn’t listen. Muted himself in the dressing room, didn’t talk to anyone- didn’t eat much either, which worried the Real captain.

So Iker took (stole) him from his house last night, and they drove and drove for hours without a plan, without a real destination. At first Sergio resisted and complained, saying that he needed to get enough sleep for next season and wake up early in the morning to train. This pushed Iker even more, so he forcibly removed the younger man and shoved him in his car. “I’m taking you on a trip, Sese.”

The car ride was quiet. Iker brought up the loss, attempting to convince Sergio that it was not his fault, goddammit. They all played a bad game. “Hey, I should’ve saved those balls better too. But I’m not beating myself up for it, am I?”

“It’s different,” Sergio said, eyes glistening with tears. “You’re you… you’re Iker Casillas, and you’re a Spanish legend. Most of our fans don’t even like me.”

“Oh, nene…” Iker felt sorry for the kid. He would’ve told him that no, that’s not true, people love you! but that is not the case for the unfortunate Sergio Ramos. Yes, he could’ve played with more sportsmanship, but Iker knows that most of the time Sergio didn't even mean his tackles- he just acted on his impulses. And the recent controversy of him breaking Mo Salah’s arm? God, that made him one of the most hated footballers alive. And Iker hurts for him, he really does.

Sergio stayed silent, and Iker placed a reassuring hand on top of his hand. Iker saw a slight smile crawl into Sergio’s face, but for his sake, Iker was just going to pretend that it never happened. When the clock struck 1 A.M. and they had neared a beach, Iker saw that his nene’s eyes lit up. Right. Sergio loved beaches. And even though Iker hated this damn place with every fiber of his being, he loved Sergio more. The kid needed this anyway. So they halted, Iker parking his flashy car on the side of the road. “Get down, Sergio, we’re staying here until you’re happy again.”

He smiled in excitement, and so did Iker. Because that was the first time in what, days? since Sergio had even shown any signs of happiness. Yes, Iker did that. He made a depressed Spaniard smile. “Go on, nene, I’ll catch up. I have to pay the meter first.” Sergio nodded, pecking Iker lightly on the cheek. Well, it’s not like it was something he hasn’t done before. The younger man jogged towards the beach, still in his sweatpants and the maroon sweater he loved so much. Iker’s eyes followed Sergio as he came to a stop, lowering himself down onto the soft sand. God, Iker loved him. If only he knew.

“Thank you, Iker.” Sergio’s voice snapped him back to reality. “I really needed this, you know.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for,” Iker smiled to the man next to him. He took this moment as a chance to process Sergio’s beauty. He noticed the moonlight shining off Sergio’s brown ones, and how his breathing matched the calming ocean tides. How the gentle wind grazed his light brown hair, that was usually ordered to sit together stiffly on his head through the power of hair gels.

In that moment, Iker knew that there wasn’t anyone, or anything, more alluring than the beauty that is Sergio Ramos. Not the feeling Iker gets when Real wins a trophy, not the pride in his heart when the entire nation of Spain cheered for him as they won their first World Cup. Not even the landscape of Riva del Garda in Italy, where Iker spent his first holiday. Sergio Ramos was the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to Iker Casillas, and Iker wouldn’t mind at all if the world ended right at this moment– because he’s looking at something bigger than it.


End file.
